


Breaking Bonds

by Fenian_Cain



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Default Hawke (Dragon Age), M/M, Post-Dragon Age II, Spoilers, justice critical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenian_Cain/pseuds/Fenian_Cain
Summary: The bonds forged through our lives aren't always breakable, at least not alone. Sometimes when you reach out for help,  the hand that actually takes yours is the one you least expect.Hawke, struggling with the developments of Ander's shocking betrayal and Kirkwall's descent further into chaos, decides to ask Fenris a favor, one with only the slightest possibility of success for his beloved mage.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age), Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 15
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally had this first chapter drafted for over a year now and I've just been editing it over and over and over again. SO, I've decided to see if potential outside motivation would help to start actually WRITING the damn STORY again instead of longing for it and only editing the little bit I have to bits...
> 
> Anyway, here's the intro, tags and everything will be updated as each chapter gets uploaded (mostly because I desperately want to explore this idea and have only a vague idea of the plot). I have enough written to comprise a couple chapters and big plans (spanning into Inquisition, ft. my canon Inquisitor and their relationship with Anders), but I'm gonna need a lot of encouragement if this is something anyone asides me would like to read.
> 
> Enjoy!

The Champion stood, panting heavily as he watched the charred corpse turn to just ashes in the wind. It was done, everything was over. The menace of Meredith was gone and Orsino’s hypocritical corpse lay dead in the tower. Hawke’s face was stony, a straight, almost downturned line replaced the playful grin that always seemed to grace his lips. Kirkwall, _his_ city, was in ruin, burning down around him once again. Today was a day of sorrow, of war, of a city crumbling to ruin, and Hawke knew he was the only one that could lead these shattered people into the beginning of an end.

Garrett’s gaze shifts, taking a second to rest on each of his companions, silently accounting for each one individually. He ignores the pain in his side that reminds him there’s a deep gash oozing a steady flow of blood, and instead starts to call attention to Merrill who’s rummaging through her bag for bandaging. His voice catches in his throat as his eyes fall on the final companion, the cause of this mess.

 _No, that’s too harsh, he’s the cause of the beginning of the war, of this start. He’s what gave mages the chance, the courage, and the ability to fight back. He’s_ **_not_ ** _the reason this war started, because it was going to anyway. But... to go this far? To cause_ **_this_ ** _much devastation?_

With a heavy sigh, Hawke shakes his head and turns away from the man he loved… **_loves_**... and makes his way across the courtyard to Fenris. The warrior frowns when he spots Hawke, shaking his head in disapproval at the gash in Hawke’s side. Despite Hawke’s protesting, Fenris rips off some cloth from a nearby tapestry to wind around Hawke’s middle, “Hawke-”

Before he could get his chastising out, Fenris was cut off by an unusually low and serious voice, “Fenris, I need to speak with you, after this mess is cleaned up. Meet me in Hightown when you can.”

Hawke’s voice raises the hair on the back of Fenris’ neck and his eyes narrow. Despite the unusual tone however, Fenris finds only honesty and pleading amongst the anguish in the amber depths. His stomach drops, “I’ll be there.”

Once back at his manor, Hawke took to pacing. He knew Fenris wouldn’t be coming till late that night, but it does nothing to calm the turmoil within him. At first Biscuit, his mabari, whines and snuffles at his heels, but quickly admits defeat after receiving only a gruff “goodnight” from Garrett. With a worried whine, he trots obediently upstairs, leaving Hawke alone with his troubled thoughts. 

Hours later, it’s just as he’s climbing the stairs to try and sleep that Hawke hears the door open and Fenris announcing his presence. Hawke’s chest tightens while calling for Fenris to join him in the main room.

“You look distressed, Hawke.” Fenris starts.

Hawke can only nod in agreement, hands coming up to rub at his face, “You might want to have a seat, you’re not going to want to hear this…”

“This has to do with the mage, doesn’t it? Maker knows you love him, Hawke, but this? He went too far-”

“I know!” Hawke snaps, cutting Fenris off. The fire in Hawke’s eyes dims when he meets Fenris’ icy glare and he continues more softly, staring into the fire instead, “I know... that’s why I need your help.” 

It takes several long moments, Fenris’ narrowed gaze searching Hawke’s defeated form when finally, with a soft huff, he takes a seat.

“I’m listening.”

“Thank you, Fenris,” Hawke lets out a relieved breath, but the anxiousness stays. This could still end badly, and he knows it. Even with hours upon hours of playing conversation after conversation over in his head, he still has no idea where to even start. “I… Anders… well...he-”

“Spit it out, Hawke. This isn’t like you. Where is the mage anyway? I figured he’d be here, hiding.” His voice is gruff, frustrated, as his eyes scan the room.

“No, no he’s at the clinic, and I’m going there after this to make sure he’s alright. He... He has to pack up his stuff.”

“At least he's got some sense to leave before the second wave of templars come-”

“You’re going with him.” Hawke blurts, the crackling of the fire only adding to the crackling tension between the two.

“What?” Fenris’ words feel like they’re made of steel, slicing through Hawke’s soul. 

“Please, Fenris, just hear me out. I’m doing this for a reason, I’m asking _you_ for a reason.” Fenris just regards him with a stony stare for several moments and eventually the silence prompts Hawke to continue, “I…I truly believe that Justice, though with no ill intention from either him nor Anders to begin with, is now corrupted. No good spirit would condone murder of innocents to prove a point-even a spirit of Justice.” Hawke gets a terse nod from Fenris and watches as he ever so slightly sits back in the seat, a sign that he was listening, and it spurs Hawke on, “E-Ever since he first mentioned the potion to separate himself from Justice, I started doing some of my own digging. I came across stories of an Avvar hold in the Frostback Basin, that they have a ritual to separate spirits from their people. I don’t know if its just rumors, or if it will even work on Demons but-."

“You want me to take him there.” Fenris finishes, tone completely flat.

“I… yes.”

“No.” Once again Fenris’ voice cuts deep into Hawke as he stands, “If the mage was dumb enough to get himself into this mess, he can get himself out of it. _You_ go with him if you think it’s worth it.”

“You know I can’t leave Kirkwall like this! It’ll destroy itself-”

“So, _let it_ , Hawke! This city isn’t your child!” Fenris snarls in frustration, turning to leave, “Say for some Maker damned reason I _do_ go, then what, Hawke? I’d sooner kill him before we even reached the Frostbacks!” 

“Exactly!” Already in the entryway, Fenris pauses, ears twitching, “And exactly why I cannot do it myself.”

“What are you talking about?” Fenris murmurs, voice thick with suspicion, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity now, turning back to find Hawke also stood by his chair, “Are you asking me to _kill_ your beloved mage?”

“Maker no!” Hawke recoils harshly at that, “I beg it doesn’t come to that-but… I need someone with him that wouldn’t hesitate to…to put him down if he-”

“Becomes an abomination.” Fenris finishes roughly, “Hawke, what makes you think he _isn’t_ one already?” 

The question, though accusatory, is sincere, and Hawke has to bite his tongue before he speaks. “I know he’s said he is merged with Justice and that there is no separation, but I _cannot_ believe that. Abominations have shown to lose control over their own bodies when threatened, and they cannot hold human emotions, show restraint, or act upon the kindness and generosity Anders does…” Hawke bites his lip before continuing, “Do you remember when he almost killed the mage girl we saved in the tunnels?”

“Yes…” Fenris’ skin prickles at the memory, hair standing on end.

“Think, Fenris… Would an abomination be able to stop that course of action? Would Anders have been able to hole himself up in a clinic and wallow in guilt and remorse and self-hate for days on end because of something he couldn’t control?”

“So he _can’t_ control it!“

“But he _can_ Fenris! He stopped Justice! There’s still an Anders in him!” Hawke is practically shouting now, but catches himself and continues much more softly, “ _Please_ Fenris, just try and look past the spirit-the demon. Anders puts up this… this _wall_ for everyone but it’s because he’s scared and knows deep down he made a mistake! He’s doing everything he can to hold himself together when a demon of vengeance is wreaking its havoc on his body!”

“It is well deserved for his foolish decision to harbor it in the first place.” Fenris’ lips curl, shaking his head in distaste.

“Andraste’s tits-Fenris please, _please_ , just this _once_ , see _Anders_. The good, kind, well-meaning man that gives everything to the people in Darktown to have a better life. Doesn’t that man deserve the chance to make his life better too? Doesn’t he deserve the chance to separate himself from the mistake he made?” Hawke is pleading now, gaze holding firm against Fenris’ narrowed one.

“You want me to give the mage who _betrayed you_ a second chance. To take him across Fereldan _on my own_ to a rumored possibility that most likely _won’t work_ to separate him from something that has proved dangerous and that he _insists_ is fully merged with his being.” Fenris repeats slowly, the words feeling like blades across his tongue, “Do you realize how stupid you sound right now?”

“Yes.” Hawke hisses, but there is no malice, only desperation, “Do _you_ realize how spiteful you sound, Fenris? How merciless and inconsiderate? A man, a man you have fought beside for 9 years now, is suffering, _has been_ suffering and all of us have just... stood there and let it happen…” Hawke trails off with that remark, clearly haunted by his own inability to see the clear signs of distress, to notice what was going on with his own lover. “I know you both have your differences and I know you don’t see eye to eye, and I know he’s said horrible things to you and I take blame for that too, but… I’m not asking for you to be friends, or even friendly. I _do_ know you can respect each other and can take care of yourselves, and you know each other well. All I’m asking from you, Fenris, is to be an escort, you’re the only one I trust to take him down if… if he goes too far. Please, Fenris. I need you.”

Hawke holds Fenris’ calculating gaze, before finally he looks away, takes a seat again and stares into the fire. Still, Fenris is silent as Hawke waves a hand dismissively, “I’m sorry. I realize I’m asking too much of you, Fenris. I would like a moment alone before I go to Darktown if you don’t mind.” 

“When does he leave?”

Hawke almost doesn’t register the quiet question, but after a moment he lifts his head to look back at Fenris in the entranceway, “What?”

“I asked, when does he leave?” Fenris repeats, a bit more forcefully, eyes averted and arms crossed, defensive.

“I… I have a ship that agreed to quietly sail two passengers across the Waking Sea to Amarathine. It leaves the docks at dawn.” Hawke murmurs, still wary but feeling a spark of hope flare in his chest.

“I’ll be at the clinic before first light.” Fenris mutters gruffly, forcefully slamming the door closed behind him. For the first time that day, there’s a small smile on Hawke’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has to say a painful goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be short but I wanted to give a little more and at least introduce Anders before the actual journey begins.

Anders didn’t sleep, he couldn’t. Even Hawke’s arms wrapped securely around him and his steady breath and beating heart against his back, something that would always at least afford him an hour of calm, he couldn’t close his eyes. Not now with what he’s done, not with the echoing screams in his subconscious being near constant and with the look of betrayal on Hawke’s face seared into his mind.

Eventually, as the pitch blackness of night starts to lighten, Anders knows it’s time to leave. Carefully, so as not to wake the slumbering Hawke, Anders untangles himself from his arms and makes his way into the clinic, going over the potions, rations, and bandaging he’d set out the night one last time before stowing them away in his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, Anders pauses once to send a longing look over his shoulder to the curtain hiding his sleeping lover from view, then starts to push the door open to be on his way.

“Fasta Vass-” The gruff voice first makes Anders reach for his staff, but the words and the person he’s run into quickly register and he immediately bristles.

“And what brings the prickly elf this early in the morning?” Anders makes a point to sweep his gaze behind Fenris, “Bring a battalion of Templars yourself to see me hauled off?” Fenris’ scowl deepens as he pushes past Anders, scanning the clinic.

“Where is Hawke?”

“Ah, I should’ve known, you don’t want me. You just want to make sure I didn’t kill our fearless leader in the night.” Anders scoffs at Fenris’ glare and shakes his head, gesturing flippantly to the room at the back of the clinic, “He’s in the back, asleep, be a dear and don’t wake him for me? At least until I’m gone.” Anders rolls his eyes when Fenris’ scowl deepens, “What?”

“You’d leave him like this? Without so much as a goodbye?” Fenris accuses, lips set in a thin, angry line, “I know you’re a spineless coward, but I won’t let you hurt Hawke like this.” 

“It’s easier for the both of us this way, trust me.” Anders bites back brushing past Fenris, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a boat to catch.”

“No-” Fenris’ word is a snarl as he reaches to grab Anders’ coat, not expecting Anders to turn. He flinches slightly as he pulls his hand back, scowling deeper, “You are not going to leave the man you love, the man who sacrificed so much for you behind without so much as a proper goodbye.” Anders’ lips are set in a thin, angry line as he stares challengingly back at Fenris. Stony silence fills the clinic for a moment until Anders notices sunlight starting to filter in through the high windows and sighs, dipping his head in acknowledgement and walking back through the clinic.

In the short time he’d been gone, Hawke’s body had sprawled out completely. It still baffled Anders that the big brute insisted that he didn’t mind sharing it, even though Anders never missed his not so subtle attempts to rub and crack the crick in his back every morning after. 

Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he gently reaches to brush the bangs from Hawke’s forehead, pressing a soft kiss there. He keeps his lips gently pressed to his skin, murmuring softly, “I love you, Hawke… I’m so sorry I’ve caused this mess and I’m leaving you behind to clean it up. You don’t deserve this, and I can only hope one day you may forgive me for everything I’ve done.” He leans back then, heaving a sigh. Hawke lets out a small whine and Anders finds himself smiling, despite the tears starting to well up, “Needy even in your sleep... you’re something else, Hawke. I hope the Maker smiles upon us and I can see you again. Goodbye, my love.”

Quickly brushing a hand across his cheeks, Anders chokes back any further tears when he steps back out into the main room, finding Fenris leaned against one of the cots, arms crossed. “Happy now?” Anders rolls his eyes when Fenris gives nothing away and heads straight for the door. 

“I’m going with you.” That stops Anders and he turns to face Fenris again.

“Sorry, must’ve misheard you, I could’ve sworn you just said you’re coming with me and obviously that can’t be right.”

“No, you heard me right.” Fenris mutters, pushing off the cot and starting to step towards him, “Figures Hawke didn’t tell you, but I’m under his request to accompany you.” He sneers slightly when he sees Anders’ look of displeasure, “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not happy with this either, but I promised Hawke.”

“Great.” Anders huffs, “Just when I thought I could finally escape your mage-hating righteousness.” He turns to head through the door again, voice chipper, “Well, let’s go then, I doubt I’ll be able to convince your stubbornness to stay behind- apparently _we_ have a boat to catch.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high on the sea voyage to Fereldan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments already! It truly does mean a lot, I'm getting invested in this story again and new ideas are forming-exciting!!!

Getting onto the boat wasn’t the hard part, both Fenris and Anders were rather adept at keeping themselves low profile and managed to sneak through the docks undetected, find the right boat, and get on board. The problem presented itself when they departed and were shown to their room. Their shared room. Thankfully, there were two cots, but in such a cramped space, if one of them had an arm stretched out, it would reach the other cot. They found that out the hard way when Anders rolled over later that night from facing the wall and smacked Fenris’ knee, earning him a scathing look.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mage. Unless you wish to lose them.”

“My, someone’s a bit touchy.” Anders huffs, “You know just because I have magic doesn’t mean touching me is going to burn you.” Anders watches Fenris’ frown deepen, and it's then that he realizes exactly what it was that he said, “Or… does it?”

The quiet huff from Fenris and the inward curl of himself over his sword again answered Anders’ question for him.

“I… I’m sorry Fenris, I didn’t realize that, I mean I assumed it had an effect but I-“

“Quiet, mage. I don’t want to hear your bumbling apology.” Fenris snaps, making Anders blink at the scathing words.

“I just, even when healing-?”

“I said  _ quiet _ .” Fenris seethes, cutting Anders off again and fixing him with a glare, “It is past nightfall. Sleep.” With that, Fenris places his sword under his cot with the rest of his armour. Rolling over, he pulls the threadbare blanket up to his shoulders and gives his back to Anders, effectively cutting off any kind of conversation Anders could try to start.

With a soft sigh of defeat, Anders figured it was pointless to argue and say he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so instead he pulls the blanket as high as it can go while still covering his toes, and settles in to wait for the sun to rise again, guilt heavy in his chest.

The rest of the several weeks on the boat followed the same pattern. Fenris always woke at the first light filtering into their shared closet, polished his armour and sharpened his sword, and then went up to the deck to help out the crew. Anders however, slept only when his body and mind gave out on him, usually occurring after Fenris left. He’d only ever be able to sleep for a few hours before the rocking of the ship woke him up, several times pushing him above deck as well to lose whatever slew he managed to get down over the side of the boat. It was a miserable experience for them both, Fenris feeling too cooped up and constantly on edge, Anders nauseated and sleep deprived. 

They didn’t speak asides from what was necessary, Fenris going so far as to avoid Anders at all costs. Or rather, always avoided being in proximity of him. Anders always felt the cold glare of the elf watching his every move. Every once in awhile he’d turn and make a face at Fenris, if his constantly nauseated state allowed it, sometimes he’d feel good enough to send a snarky remark at the elf, complaining about constantly being watched, “as if I’d blow up my only semblance of safety on this maker-damned ocean.” He’d always get a huff in return, if even that, but the watchful eyes never ceased. This morning he had good news though.

“You know I overheard the crew today, we’re supposed to be reaching Amaranthine tomorrow.” Anders smiles, absently picking at a stray thread from his tunic, “Must be excited to get off the boat.”

“Excited? Hardly.” Fenris mutters under his breath, not looking up from whetting his sword, the sound filling the tiny room every couple seconds, “Getting off the boat means a lot more hassle.”

“But at least you won’t have share a room with me, right?” Anders glances over to Fenris, goofy smile still plastered on his face, “That _has_ to make the broody elf smile.”

“It would if you were right. We can’t afford to have separate shelters. And I need to keep an eye on you at all times.”

“What, afraid I’ll run away?” Anders rolls his eyes, “Not like that’s what we’re doing now anyway.”

“Yes, Mage, I need to make sure you’re kept in line,” Anders tenses, the smile disappearing in an instant, “That someone is there to make sure-”

“Make sure I don’t blow up another building?” Anders cuts him off, voice thick, “That I don’t kill more innocent people? That I don’t merge with another demon?”

“Mage-” Fenris has stopped now, voice low and dangerous as he finally looks up at Anders.

“What, Fenris? You can’t hide it you know, it’s so obvious you only agreed to come with me to babysit me. Make sure to strike me down the second you deem me dangerous-”

“You are a mage-”

“Save it, I’ve heard enough of your bigotry.” Anders snarls, waving a hand dismissively, but Fenris doesn’t stop.

“You _are_ dangerous, not only are you a powerful mage, but one that harbors a demon and has just proved to have murderous intent!”

“Ah yes, you don’t even deny my accusation. Good to know my executioner is right by my side. Tell me Fenris, will you make it nice and easy? Pull my cold blackened magic riddled heart out of my chest?”

“Mage-”

“Or would you savor it? Maybe take that sword of yours and slit my throat, watch me try desperately to heal myself as the blood flows free, stand over me and taunt me to use blood magic to save myself so you can just strike me down again?”

“Stop-”

“Oh, I know, you’d act like everything is fine but find a band of templars at the first chance, hand me over to be made tranquil-no-you’ll be the one to hold me down, watch as everything I am and hold dear is stripped away.”

“ _Enough_!” Fenris snaps, whetstone clattering to the floor as gets to his feet, visibly shaking with the effort it takes him to wipe the snarl off his face. With one deep breath, he’s immediately eerily calm again, teeth still bared as he speaks in a forced whisper, “You’d better hope it doesn’t come to that,  _ abomination _ .” With that, Fenris turns on his heel and heads for the stairs to go above deck again. Anders is left quietly stewing, letting the anger slowly dissipate into hurt, and then into remorse. Guilt on how he's acted, guilt on what he's said, and guilt on what he’s done. It was all too easy to argue, to defend himself, to say all the things he's said before, all in the name of mage freedom. It was a whole other thing to be that confident when faced with himself and the horrors he knows he’s done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love for some second opinions on the interaction(s) between Fenris and Anders! I'm hoping to keep this as canon-esque as possible and slowly build the relationship over time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day off the boat is not, in fact, much of a blessing.

“Wake up. We’ve docked.” Anders startles awake as something is tossed on top of him. Blearily, he rubs at his eyes and holds up what seems to be a cloak, “Put that on, _not_ the ratty robe you always wear, it’s too recognizable. Let’s go.” Anders was still trying to process the words as Fenris pulls on his own cloak over his armour and left Anders to change.

“Thank the maker we can finally get off this _boat_ .” Anders mutters under his breath, eyeing the cloak suspiciously before deciding he was going to wear it _over_ his own robes. It takes him a moment to steady himself as he stands, mostly still half asleep, and follow after Fenris.

“Put your damned hood on Mage!” Fenris hisses when Anders gets above deck, making Anders tense and eye him, “Your hair gives you away.” Anders opens his mouth to retort but quickly thinks better of it, and instead follows as Fenris leads him off the ship with a group of the sailors. They manage to blend into the crowds on the docks well enough, weaving their way through quickly with their heads down.

When they get to the market stalls however, there are a bunch of templars milling about with the people. Not only that, but Fenris’ skin prickles with how many watchful eyes there are. Too many stares lingered for it to be safe in any regard, “Mage, we have to go.” Fenris murmurs lowly, turning around to lead the way out of the city. What he finds when he does turn is a gauntleted hand clamped down on Anders’ shoulder, and a fleeting look of panic on Anders’ face before it shifts back into the normal cocky smirk he always seems to wear.

“Hello?” Anders murmurs curiously, rolling his shoulder slightly, “Is there something I can help you with?” _He doesn’t turn yet_ , Fenris thinks, _to his credit_.

“Come with me, Apostate.” The templar grunts, “Don’t make this difficult.”

“Oh me? I would _never_ cause a fuss.” Anders laughs, shaking his head, “But I believe you’re a bit mistaken, Sir, I’m no apostate.”

“You’re carrying-” The templar starts to say and Fenris watches in horror as his hand reaches for the staff on Anders’ back. Reaching instinctively for his sword, Fenris doesn’t get far before Anders cuts off the Templar.

“A walking stick.” Anders chirps, “Trust me, I get mistaken for a mage all the time.” Fenris watches in shock as Anders winks at him from underneath the hood. still facing away from the templar, “Not a drop of magic blood in me I’m afraid, my companion here can attest to that.” He nods to Fenris, and Fenris quickly has to school his features and nod when the templar looks to him.

“Well?” The Templar’s voice was gruff, suspicious, and the hand was still clamped on Anders’ shoulder.

“I’d appreciate it if you let go of his shoulder.” Fenris gruffs, “We’re travelers, only here to get food and garments.” He blatantly stares at the hand on Anders’ shoulder before the templar lets go, “He took a bandit arrow to the leg, walks with a limp now. That’s why he carries the walking stick. For the long distances.”

Still wary, the templar narrows his eyes on Fenris before looking back to Anders, “Let’s see that scar then.” Fenris feels his stomach churn, and he tenses, ready for a fight.

“Of course, Sir.” Anders sends a hard stare at Fenris, willing him to relax before his brands lit and gave _him_ away, but replaces it with a gleeful smile directed to the templar. Anders shows no hesitation in leaning down to tug up his robe, showing off a coin-sized white scar on the side of his left calf. Even Fenris blinks in surprise at it, catching himself wondering where it came from, “I truly apologize for the inconvenience, sir, but I figured it would be more suspicious if I were to try and _hide_ my walking stick, so I like to keep it out in plain view.”

“Now if you don’t mind, we really ought to be going.” Fenris murmurs, taking hold of Anders’ forearm and tugging him slightly, “So if you’ll excuse us.”

“I-of course.” The templar huffs, eyes narrowed, but he steps back and nods to Fenris, then to Anders, “My apologies for the false accusation.” He still looked far too suspicious for Fenris’ liking, but he _was_ letting them pass.

“Come on, we have to get out of here,” Fenris murmurs once they were out of earshot, “before someone else stops you for that accursed staff.”

“Wouldn’t it look _more_ suspicious if we don’t buy anything now?” Anders grumbles.

“I don’t want to risk staying here any longer, especially since that templar is going to be watching us.”

“You make it seem like I’m some idiot that’ll throw a fireball in the air and dance around screaming _‘I’m a mage’_ at the top of my lungs.”

“Not hard to imagine.”

“Oh, come off it Fenris!” Anders snaps, “I’m not some maker-damned idiot that’ll get myself caught, I’ve lasted plenty of years on my own-in Kirkwall to boot!”

“Hawke and Varric are the only reasons you were able to evade the templar’s grasp.”

“Do you have absolutely no faith in-wait, what?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“No, what did you mean by they’re the only reason, I mean I understand Hawke, but Varric?”

“Drop it, mage.”

“What do you know?”

“I said drop it.”

“Fenris-”

“ _Let. It. Go_ .” Fenris hisses angrily, “If you don’t want a templar finding out who you are I suggest you shut that foolish mouth of yours _now_ and follow me.”

“But I-”

“ _Enough_ !” Fenris turns around at that, starting to raise a hand in instinct, then quickly making it into a fist and dropping it back at his side. He shakes his head and visibly takes a deep breath before continuing, “Mage, _Anders_ , just trust me, for once in your life, trust that I’m actually looking out for your sake.” Anders’ eyes narrowed on his and Fenris scoffs, baring his teeth in frustration, “Come.” With that, he grabs Anders’ wrist, and Anders has to fight to pay enough attention to pretend he has a limp while being dragged along behind Fenris out of the streets and eventually out of the town.

He smartly kept his mouth shut when Fenris dropped his wrist. Even kept it shut as they left the city and started heading West. Finally, when they neared a smaller town and started setting up camp, did he finally open his mouth.

“You know it’s considered rude to keep secrets from your traveling companions.” Anders murmurs, “And I’m _still_ not quite sure just how long I’ll be stuck with you-actually that’s a good question, why did Hawke ask _you_ to come with me?”

Fenris tenses at that, fingers faltering for a split second before he goes back to setting up a small area for a fire. Silence brewed tension and Anders huffs to try and snap it.

“ _Fine_ , but you have to tell me eventually.” Anders sends a glare towards Fenris while taking a seat on a nearby rock to look over his staff, muttering about the “broody elf and his secrets”.

After several long moments however, and one chilled breeze too many, Anders looks up to find them still lacking a fire, “You know, I do happen to have magical abilities that can produce flame at a moment’s notice.” He murmurs, deadpan, taking notice of the goosebumps along his arms, “Just say the word and we can be warm again.”

“Quiet, Mage. I’m concentrating.” Fenris mutters, and Anders watches as he just… spins a stick between his palms into a piece of wood…

“I mean, I know when you rub down other things they can produce heat but…” Anders has to pause to chuckle at himself, “how exactly is furiously rubbing a stick going to produce fire?”

“Friction-” Fenris huffs, flicking his gaze for a moment to fix Anders with a glare before looking back down at his stick, and miraculously, Anders watches as smoke starts to rise from the bottom of it where it’s pressed into a groove in the other piece of wood. Then, all of a sudden, a spark, and then a small flame, “-causes fire.” Fenris murmurs, leaning back on his haunches, then down again to add pine needles and dead leaves and start blowing on it. Anders watched in fascination as the flame builds into a proper campfire.

“ _Fascinating…_.” He finds himself murmuring aloud, then flushes slightly when Fenris turns his hardened gaze to Anders, “Sorry- I’ve never…” Fenris’ gaze softens slightly, his voice softer.

“Have you never seen fire created without magic?”

“If I did… I don’t remember.” Anders murmurs, fascinated by the fact that there was no magic within the crackling flames, no pull from the fade, not even a lick, “We… In the circle I mean, never had reason to learn. We had magic, and we were to rely on it always, so why would they teach us skills that magic could solve for us?” He trails off into a fake laugh, shaking his head. Slowly, he reaches out a hand towards the fire, feeling the warmth of it and relishing in the fact that it didn’t come from him.

Fenris only watched Anders’ fascination, letting him have the moment. After a bit he stood to start clearing off a space for himself to sleep.

“I’m going into the town on my own come morning, we can’t risk you or your staff getting seen again. Stay here and lie low.”

“Stay here and lie low.” Anders echoes, almost mockingly, rolling his eyes, “Don’t worry _mother,_ I won’t cause any trouble.”

Fenris turns to frown at Anders but says nothing, only shaking his head and going back to setting up his sleeping area.

“Got it, I’ll shut up then.” Anders rolls his eyes, settling down more comfortably by the fire, “I have some rolls and cheese in my pack if you want some.” This time Fenris doesn’t turn, and Anders waits a couple beats before trying again, “Fenris?”

“I have my own.” Fenris responds gruffly, and Anders blinks, gaze hardening. He figured the amicable atmosphere could only have lasted so long, “Only eat what you must to tide yourself over. We have to save as much as we can.”

“Ah yes, the underweight skinny mage who’s been on the run his _whole life_ and consistently gives his food away to others is going to eat all the food he has in one sitting.” Anders rolls his eyes, “It’s not like I barely eat as it is.”

All Anders gets in response is a huff and decides he shouldn’t press any longer. He’s assuming he’ll be stuck with Fenris for a while after all, so he’ll have plenty of chances to get a crack at him.

The pair ate in silence by the fire, then sat in continued silence, relaxing in the cool night air. Eventually Anders spoke again, “So I assume we’ll swap off keeping watch, right? I was thinking I’ll stay up tonight so you can sleep, and then I’ll rest while you gather supplies, fair?”

At first Fenris wants to tell Anders how stupid that idea is, how he’s leaving himself vulnerable while Fenris is away, but he bites his tongue. If Anders wants to be stupid then he can be stupid, “If that is what you want.” Fenris mutters, knowing full well he won’t be sleeping tonight anyway, so it’s not as if it mattered.

“Good. See you in the morning, Fenris.” Anders tries for a smile but isn’t quite sure why he expected anything but a grunt in response as Fenris found a soft pile of moss and let himself get comfy.

Anders spent his night watching the stars, laying back and wondering if Hawke was also watching them. He hoped more than anything that he was alright, that he could still make something of the city that was left in shambles. He hoped Hawke didn’t resent him for the mess he left behind, for leaving him behind as well. He wonders if they'll ever see each other again, if he'd ever be able to go back to Kirkwall... or if Hawke would ever be able to leave Kirkwall.

He looses himself in a daydream for a while, thinking of him and Hawke spending their days like the stories Hawke told him about. How he would spend his days training his abilities with his father and sister, cooking with his mother, and only worrying about templars as a distant threat. How he had parents who loved him and cherished him and his abilities, how they promised they would raise their kids like that one day...

Then, his unanswered question came filtering back in. They both agreed that Hawke had to stay in Kirkwall and Anders had to leave, but Hawke said _nothing_ about Fenris. He knows how Fenris feels about Anders, especially after the Chantry... Why would he ask _him_ of all people?

"He doesn't trust me..." Ander's brow furrows in worry as the constant nagging anxious thought now has teeth to it. Now he has reason to believe it. 

_He doesn't trust us._

"He has no reason to." Anders murmurs wearily, feeling Justice's influence filtering into his consciousness, "Not after what we did."

_We had to._

"I know we did. That doesn't make what we told him any less of a lie."

_He would've stopped us._

"He would've helped-"

_He was afraid. Afraid of the consequences of action. We must be decisive, direct, and determined. The mages have suffered for too long already._

"I know..."

_We want mage freedom. Sometimes the path we walk must be done alone._

"Doesn't mean I want it to be..."

_Whether you want it or not, that is how we must be. We agreed that mage freedom is above all else._

"Yes, but-"

_We agreed._

“It shouldn’t have to come at the expense of-”

 _Your humanity?_ The voice is a snarl now, and Anders shuts his eyes tight at it's harshness.

“Yes! I deserve to be human too-”

 _More than all the mages suffering right now at this very moment? They come_ **_first._ **

Anders sits up after that, the stars no longer a comfort, but a reminder of the vastness of injustices throughout all of Thedas… and of all the people that would lose their lives in the war he's sparked. 

_We sparked. We did what was just._

Anders voice, though low before is now barely a whisper in the wind, “We did what we must….” He doesn’t see Fenris’ ear twitch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First "Justice" appearance! Let me know what you think of him!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris takes his solo trip into town while the templars become harder and harder to find the longer he stays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's official, this chapter marks the end from what I had already written, so from here on out its stuff I'm writing completely fresh! Wish me luck! (So sorry if the quality goes down, ill probably end up going back and editing chapters sometimes but I want to focus on getting chapters out and written!)

With thoughts swarming his mind and eyes burning with tears, Anders didn’t notice how much time was passing until light started filtering in through the sky with the sun rising. And with the sun, Fenris rose as well.

“Good morning.” Anders tries, doing his best to wipe his cheeks and shake himself free of the harsh grip of reality that through the night, “Sleep well?” Anders didn’t get a response at first, only the subtle twitch of his ear showed that Fenris heard him, “Fenris?”

“Just fine.” Fenris doesn’t turn, stretching out and pulling on his chest plate and gauntlets, “Try not to do anything stupid while I’m gone. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Don’t be the stupid mage, don’t dance around shooting fire into the sky, don’t blow anything up, got it.” Anders gripes as Fenris stalks off towards the village. 

While waiting, Anders decides he might as well try his hand at recreating the fire that Fenris made, without magic, and gets to work rummaging around the nearby area for some sufficient sticks.

Meanwhile, in town, Fenris was true to his word. He makes sure to grab extra layers for when they make it to the Frostbacks, a couple small knives, a small sack for himself and a new one for Anders, along with enough rations to make sure they won’t go hungry if they don’t find anything for food in the next couple weeks. All the while, he’s making sure to watch the local Templars and city guards. Everything is normal at first, a couple templars coming and going, but soon enough, Fenris notices that there aren’t any more templars. At all. Frowning, he detaches himself from the stalls and starts actively searching for them. After finding no commotions and no templars anywhere, Fenris’s stomach drops at the realization of where they might be. Instantly he was rushing out of the city towards their campsite, the whole way doing his best to keep calm. _There’s no need to rush, there’s no way they found him, and that even if they do, Anders can take care of himself._

As he gets closer with no signs of trouble, his hackles start to fall, until of course, he hears the shouts of the templars and spots a glint of metal armour in the morning sunlight.

“We won’t ask nicely again, _apostate_.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Anders groans, hands held up in innocence, “It’s not a staff, it’s a _walking stick._ ”

“You’re an idiot if you think we believe that.” One of them scoffs, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t this guy look familiar to you?” One of them pipes up, voice thick with suspicion. Silence ensues for a few seconds, but before Anders can open his mouth to speak, one of them shouts.

“ _Anders_! The apostate that destroyed Kirkwall’s Chantry!”

“Now, now, let’s not come to hasty conclusions here- _Fine_ . _Fine!_ You want a fight? _You_ asked for it.” He grumbles under his breath, stepping back into a stable stance and twirling his staff off his back to slam into the ground, shooting sparks out to each of the five templars. It only stuns them for a moment, but that’s all Anders needs to freeze the two templars closest to him solid, spin, and direct his attention to the other three as they come to.

One of them growls, raising his sword to charge at Anders, the other two close behind. Fenris readies himself to rush in, expecting the mage to be cut to ribbons, but doesn’t end up even unsheathing his sword. He had never really gotten the chance to see Anders work in close quarters and finds himself watching as he realizes Anders didn’t need him. Fenris is a bit taken aback to find Anders barely making any offensive moves of his own. Instead, he’s deflecting each of the attacks or evading them completely so they end up clashing with each other. It was like watching a rogue fight with a staff rather than two daggers or a bow. Very different from what Garrett always did when caught needing to resort to hand-to-hand, he always used his strength and power, while Anders seemed to rely on evasive maneuvering and letting his attackers do the work for him. 

It didn’t take long for Anders to send the Templars running, the ones that weren’t knocked out cold that is. Fenris is still watching as Anders prods at the two knocked out Templar’s helmets, and when no reaction is received, lets himself slump against his staff. Fenris figured now was as good a time as any to show himself again. 

“I thought I told you not to call attention to yourself?” Anders startles at the voice, whipping around and pointing his staff at Fenris, who only scoffs and whacks it away with the back of his hand, “We should move on.” 

For a moment, Anders is stunned into silence, then shakes his head and hurries after Fenris to disassemble their campsite. “How long were you standing there for?” Rolling his eyes, Anders’ not sure why he actually expected an answer, “You could’ve helped.”

“You didn’t seem to need it.” 

Not expecting the sincerity in the words thrown at him, Anders shuts his mouth and decides that it isn’t worth a snappy retort. Fenris was right after all, they _did_ have to move. Despite feeling drained and having to pack up everything again, Anders lets a slow smile grace his lips at the thought that Fenris, of all people, _complimented_ him. 

_That wasn’t a compliment._

The smile drops almost as soon as it starts to spread. He glances sideways to Fenris, thankfully finding him busy.

_Remember? They don’t trust us._

“But-” His voice is tiny, only meant for his own ears. It’s almost impossible to think when Justice comes up through his conscience, he has to speak for himself to even remember who he is. 

_Why is Fenris still here? He’s made it clear he wishes to be your executioner and won’t help our cause! We have to run. It will be better for everyone._

Fenris spares a glance over at Anders when he starts to hear mumbling. It wasn’t uncommon for the mage to murmur to himself while doing a task, but Fenris was never able to fully pick up what the mage was ever saying, nor did he really try for that matter. Now, though, the mage _is_ his only companion, he should at least be sure he isn’t murmuring anything detrimental.

“Wait, Hawke said-”

_Hawke doesn’t love us anymore, we settled this last night. We owe him nothing and he owes us nothing. It’s over._

“No-”

_Whether you accept it or not, we will never see Hawke again._

Carefully, Fenris starts shuffling his way closer to where Anders is attempting to roll up his bedroll. As he nears, he notices Anders is barely even paying any attention to the bedroll, rolling and re-rolling it over and over in his hands. _What in Thedas is this Mage distracted by? We must move on!_

“... _no…”_ The distraught word is barely a whisper, and Fenris finds himself straining to hear more, “... it’s not fair-” Fenris glances over when Anders’ voice cuts off abruptly, finding the mage’s hands stop rolling and instead start to ever so gently shake. Brow furrowing, Fenris takes in Anders’ scrunched face tilted towards the ground, back bowed as he crouches, _almost as if someone was… yelling at him?_ Fenris starts as he feels his skin start to buzz, and in the instant he sees Anders’ skin start to crackle with blue, it’s gone again.

“We do what we must…” While Fenris certainly saw Anders’ mouth move to form the words, it didn’t quite sound like _Anders_ was the one who said it. The hairs on the back of Fenris’ neck are still prickling when Anders’ eyes snap open and he starts rolling the bedroll again, this time making it tight enough to fit in his pack on the first try.

“What was _that_ ?” Fenris swears he can _see_ the alarm flash through Anders' eyes before he furrows his brow and looks genuinely confused,

“What was what?”

“ _That_ ” Fenris repeats, not quite sure how to put into words what he just witnessed. Anders’ last words echo through Fenris' head, “You said ‘we do what we must’, what does it mean?” Another flash of panic before Anders is eerily calm again.

“You said it yourself, we should move on. Quickly, too.” Anders’ smile doesn’t seem as friendly now, “Besides, if there are already secrets between traveling companions, what’s one more?” Shouldering his pack and putting his back to Fenris, Anders starts off walking, forcing Fenris to swallow his words and follow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders (sort-of) listens to Justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Big news! 2020 hit me with one final sucker-punch and to make a really long, complicated story short, my boyfriend and I as well as all our pets have been told to get out by our landlords/roommate (Not a formal eviction! Yet...). I wanted to finish the chapter I started so I could give you some more to read with this news, but unfortunately I'm not sure how much time I can spare to work on this while we are busy finding a new place to live. 
> 
> Anywho, I hope you all enjoy the chapter, as always please let me know what you think!

In the days that followed, neither party spoke much to each other. Much like their weeks on the boat, Fenris communicated with as little words as possible, and Anders spent most of his time distracted by his own problems, barely ever catching a wink of sleep. Every night is the same conversation with himself, a battle to confront Fenris, sneak away, or bide time. After a week, Anders had Justice’s voice in his head constantly, no matter what they were doing. Every opening in the trees, every time Fenris’ attention was averted, every low hanging branch was an opportunity to slip away, then be rebuked for not taking.

_What are we waiting for?_

Anders tries focusing on the crunch of leaves at his feet, the rustling of branches in the wind, anything but the voice in his head.

_We must focus._

Anders starts humming a soft tune. At first it’s nonsensical, just random notes in a made-up melody, but soon he starts to recognize snippets of melodies stirring deep in his subconscious. 

_You invite death upon mages the longer we delay…_

Anders hums louder, now recognizing the song from nights at the Hanged Man, and that time he caught Isabela giving the band some coin to play this certain song every time Hawke walked into the tavern. 

_We must leave, NOW Anders!_

The booming voice elicits a sharp intake of breath from Anders, hand flying up to hold his head, “I’ve told you, we can’t just leave.” Anders hisses under his breath, glancing worriedly up towards Fenris on the trail ahead of him, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

_YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK ON YOUR FELLOW MAGES?! YOU WERE READY TO DIE, TO BE A MARTYR FOR OUR CAUSE, BUT NOW WE’RE NOTHING BUT A FLEEING COWARD WHO CANNOT FACE THE PATH TO JUSTICE THAT WE STARTED._

“Not now, _please_.” The voice feels like it is echoing throughout his whole head, ricocheting off his skull and amplifying itself with each word.

_YES NOW. WE STARTED A WAR. WE STARTED A PATH TOWARDS RIGHTEOUS JUSTICE FOR MAGES ALL ACROSS THEDAS. WE SWORE OURSELVES TO THIS CAUSE ABOVE ALL ELSE. ALL. ELSE. YOU CANNOT AND WILL NOT TURN YOUR BACK ON THIS NOW._

Anders’ palm slips on his forehead slick with sweat just as his knees buckle, forcing him to pull out his staff. Finding his feet again, Anders starts to take another step. Green and brown swirl in his vision, and the next thing he knows is his knees hitting the ground. 

_HAWKE WAS AND STILL IS A DISTRACTION. CAST YOUR MIND AWAY FROM HIS FOOLISHNESS. WE LEFT HIM BEHIND FOR A REASON. HE DOES NOT REALIZE THE LENGTHS WE MUST GO FOR THE FREEDOM OF MAGES._

Anders’ eyes slip closed, white knuckles stark against golden strands of hair. Several strands have fallen loose now from his hair tie, darkened by sweat against the pale skin of his forehead.

_HAWKE STOOD IN YOUR WAY THEN AND EVEN STILL STANDS IN YOUR WAY NOW. YOU THINK THE ELF DRAWS ANY PLEASURE FROM THIS VENTURE? HE IS SIMPLY WAITING FOR HIS CHANCE TO STRIKE YOU DOWN. WE WILL NEVER ACHIEVE FREEDOM FOR MAGES WHILE KEEPING YOURSELF CAPTIVE TO HIM._

Shaking violently, Anders doesn’t register sharpened gauntlets digging into his shoulders.

_STOP RESISTING, IT’S NO USE._

“-ge! Mage!” 

_Just let go._

“-ake up! Mage!”

_Let go._

“Anders!” A crack sounds through the trees as Fenris yanks Anders’ staff from his grip, letting the mage fall to the ground face first. Casting the staff aside, Fenris doesn’t waste a single second, stepping into a stable stance and reaching for the sword on his back in one fluid motion. “Get up!” Fenris tries again when Anders doesn’t budge, using his foot to flip him onto his back. A small trickle of blood leaks from his nose, not much darker than the red flush to his forehead and cheeks. Fenris finds himself hesitating for a moment, it was hard to convince himself that an enemy was laid before him when the enemy was in no fit state to battle. _No, the demon lives inside him, I must be ready to prevent the mage succumbing to becoming an abomination._

“Anders!” Fenris growls louder. A heartbeat passes before he unsheathes and brandishes his sword, carefully holding it steady over Anders’ neck, “Get up!”

It takes a rough kick to his side before Anders’ eyes even open a sliver. As a blurry picture slowly starts coming into focus, Anders panics and for a split second, Fenris feels the lyrium in his skin buzz with the pull of the fade and he starts to push down on his sword, forcing a gasp out of Anders, “No-!” Willing up the last ounces of his strength, Anders fights through the fog of exhaustion and pain, knowing he couldn’t win a fight against Fenris right now.

_I could win_.

“Go away-” Anders’ gasp gets cut off as Fenris’ brands alight and the edge of the sword starts to break through skin, “No! Fenris-” Anders feels a powerful thrum of energy through him and he clenches his eyes tight against it.

_Just let me handle this._

“You’re making it _worse_ !” Anders manages to hiss out, bringing his hands up to clutch desperately at his searing forehead, “Just-give me some _space_!”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t strike you down right now.” Fenris growls, 

_I’d like to see him try_

“Fenris!” Anders forces an eye open, desperate to reach him, “Trust me!”

“Why should I trust an abomination?!”

“That’s what I’ll be if you _don’t_ trust _me_!” Anders gasps again at the jerk of the sword and the feeling of blood starting to trickle down his neck. Another pulse of barely contained energy thrums between the pair, sending bright blue cracks splintering across Anders’ skin.

“Who. Are. You.” Fenris surprises himself when he speaks, with every muscle tense and screaming to push that last bit needed for the mage’s death. _Why is he not resisting?_ Fenris tears his eyes away from Anders’ crackling skin to find one of his eyes back open and fixated on his own. _It’s his eye? Not Justice’s?_

“ _Anders_!” 

The tension drains out of Fenris when he hears’ Anders’ name, the conversation he had with Hawke flooding back to him; _Abominations have shown to lose control over their own bodies when threatened…_ Looking down at Anders now, seeing how flushed and pained Anders was, clutching at his own head and not the sword at his throat, Fenris can’t believe he’s letting himself believe Anders. _Fenris please, please, just this once, see_ Anders _. The good, kind, well-meaning man…_

Abruptly, Fenris stands, green gaze never breaking with Anders’ honey-brown, “Get up then, _Anders_.” Reaching back, Fenris sheaths his sword but doesn’t let go of it, and Anders doesn’t budge from his position on the ground, “Well? I gave you space.”

It takes another moment before Anders makes any movement other than shaking and ragged breathing. Carefully, Fenris watches as Anders gathers his legs under himself, one hand still firmly weaved into the sweat soaked strands of hair on his head. The moment Anders’ eyes locked with Fenris’ again though, Fenris finds his breath knocked from his lungs and his vision darkened. It’s as he realizes he’s been stunned by Anders' mindblast that he registers the sound of rapid footsteps getting farther and farther away. 

By the time Fenris’ vision comes back to him, Anders is nowhere to be seen.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this idea at all, please consider commenting! I'd be ecstatic for any comment, from just a smiley face to an idea of where it could go from here. I promise anything would bring me immense joy and help increase the chances of getting me writing again!


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